


Phoenix

by Varaen



Series: Emancipation Suite [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, GFY, Gen, Rivendell | Imladris, Tons of OCs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 12:28:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7268245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Varaen/pseuds/Varaen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At a time of great grief, Imladris gains a new resident.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Phoenix

It had not stopped raining since Elrond had returned from Mithlond over two months ago. No one was insensitive enough to begrudge the Lord of Imladris his grief, but all were glad that the sowing had not yet begun, given that the constant downpour would flush all seeds from the soil. Celebrían was sorely missed, but most of all by her husband and children.

Arwen had accompanied her grandparents south to Lórien, to find solace in their presence. Elladan and Elrohir had ridden out barely a day after returning to Imladris, accompanied by a full patrol, to hunt orcs. Meanwhile, Elrond drowned the valley in his sorrow.

Lindir was worried. A darkness lay over the valley that went beyond the clouds that had gathered above. The rain was not that uncommon for the season, when heavy clouds accumulated along the Misty Mountains, but Rivendell usually was protected from extreme weather by Elrond’s mastery of Vilya. It bothered Lindir to see his Lord and friend so downcast and himself unable to help. It had not been a hard decision in the end, to send Celebrían over the sea, when she had deteriorated further, almost bedridden and staring transfixed into the distance, but her absence was felt keenly.

He roused himself from his wool-gathering to check on Elrond and remind him to take food and rest. He was about to turn away from the window when Lindir saw Glaurchen hurry across the courtyard into his direction. The flaxen-haired smith was one of the few who braved the rain regularly and without complaint, keeping up not only her work in the remote smithy, but also her regular walks despite the ongoing rain. To see her run now that the deluge had abated to a drizzle had to have a different reason.

“Lindir!” she called from afar. “I need your help. I found this child sitting on the porch of the smithy, although I do not know how he could have crawled all the way there. Do you recognize him?”

As she spoke she drew aside her damp cloak to reveal the toddler in swaddling clothes she carried on her hip. The child had the pale complexion of most Noldor, and a tuft of red curls on his head. Lindir sighed. He had been so looking forward to another boring evening.

“I have never seen this child before. As far as I know, there is no child this young living in Imladris right now. We should ask Lord Elrond. Perhaps we have guests who are missing their son right now.”

All the while, the toddler watched him, stretching out his arms towards Lindir. Resigned, he took the child from Glaurchen’s arms and settled him under his own cloak. Small fists entangled themselves in his long rust-brown tresses as the child relaxed against his side.

“You must hold a great resemblance to one of his parents,” said Glaurchen. “He didn’t relax for a moment while I carried him.”

He strode through the long corridors with Glaurchen at his heels, once again deep in thought. The appearance of this child puzzled Lindir. He knew that the theory he had proposed to Glaurchen was even more preposterous than she was aware of. Not only did elves not travel with such young children unless there was dire need, but Lindir knew well that there were no guests with children in Imladris at the time. The swaddling was wrapped in a way he had not seen since the Lady Galadriel had visited shortly after the birth of her youngest grandchild. Lindir could only hope that the mysteries surrounding this foundling could be solved.

He was relieved when they reached Elrond’s study. The child had grown increasingly agitated on the way, pulling on his hair and babbling an incessant stream of incomprehensible syllables into his ear. At the sight of Elrond, the babbling intensified, coalescing into something that sounded very much like ‘Ada’.

“Is there something you would like to tell us, my friend?” Erestor joked. Elrond on the other hand stood transfixed as the foundling leaned towards him from his perch on Lindir’s hip, one hand still tangled in his hair, the other making grabbing motions in Elrond’s direction. Again, the child let himself be passed on without complaint and settled into Elrond’s lap like a king on his throne.

While Glaurchen told again how she had found the toddler, Lindir contemplated what he had learned so far. One parent with red or auburn hair. Another pale and black haired. That reduced the possibilities dramatically.

When he shared his observations with the room, Elrond grew pensive. He examined the child once again, from the shape of his ears and the texture of his hair to the hue of his eyes and the fabric of his clothes.

“Erestor, could you please fetch your mother and Aglariel? Tell them to hurry.”

Erestor left quickly and Elrond turned to Lindir and Glaurchen. Lindir squirmed under his penetrative gaze.

“What you are about to learn is not to leave this room. I trust in your good sense and discretion,” the elf-lord implored his subjects. “I have a hunch as to the identity of our foundling. If my guess is correct, widespread knowledge of his strange arrival and any speculation concerning his identity would be detrimental to his safety and wellbeing.”

Elrond leveled another penetrating gaze at them, emphasizing the importance of his instruction, until both nodded in acquiescence. Shortly after, Erestor returned quietly, followed by Táranis and Aglariel, and locked the door behind himself. If Elrond’s sobriety had not informed Lindir of the severity of the situation, the simple act of locking a door in Imladris would. It was simply not done.

Aglariel immediately crossed the study to look closely at the child, until she nodded decisively.

“You say he called you _atya_ and latched onto Lindir like a limpet? I don’t understand why you needed me here, you know very well who he is,” she said.

“I was unaware I resembled my paternal ancestors this much. Also, I hoped to be wrong,” Elrond replied.

“You don’t. Not much beyond the black hair and pale skin, that is,” Táranis said. It was true. While Elrond had the same deep black hair and ivory skin as Finwë’s kin, he had inherited these traits by way of his foremother Melian. His eyes held a remnant of the characteristic Noldorin shape, just like his cheekbones, but all in all,  it was quite obvious from his lack of distinct features from any of the clans that Elrond was a descendant of three different elven kin.

“I believe his fae recognizes you and parses that familiarity into the closest fitting concept. Since you are an adult and he is not, that would be ‘father’.”

Elrond’s expression of defeat was almost theatrical. Lindir was confused. He had been aware that there were things in Imladris that were not spoken about, but the conversation he had just witnessed was a crowning example of private references and unsaid knowledge. He had not even known that Táranis was kin to Erestor, let alone his mother, although he had thought himself close to her, spending long hours together debating their preferences for different instruments, similar ceaseless musical disputes and much besides.

“What shall we call him then? The notoriety of his old name would serve him ill,” Elrond said.

“You intend to raise him yourself then?” Erestor asked, in a tone that suggested that he had not expected this decision.

“Of course. Gildor’s company is due to arrive tomorrow to rest and resupply. They could have found him on the way, a survivor of an orc ambush. It is an unlikely background, but less conspicuous than the truth,” Elrond said. “Rossaen is an appropriate name, don’t you think?”

The child clapped his hands once and giggled, as if to commend Elrond on his choice.

“It is a good equivalent to Russandol, but not too obvious in its similarity,” said Táranis. Elrond only smiled serenely.

 

* * *

 

Lindir was not present for any further meetings that concerned Rossaen, but two days later, the foundling was introduced to the household in general as a ward of Elrond, brought to the shelter of Imladris after Gildor and his wandering companions had failed to save his parents from an orc attack on the road.

The tale was accepted face value, which made Lindir doubt the judgement of his fellow elves, until he reminded himself that he would hold the same faith in everything Elrond said had he not been present when the tale was spun. He still did not know who it was they were concealing, but given the heritage of those involved in the conspiracy, nevermind the child’s appearance, it had to be a reborn Noldorin exile. It probably was a famous one, as cautious as they were with his name, but Lindir refused to mull over the matter any further. It was not his concern, and in the end, he trusted in the wise judgement of Elrond and his chief councilor.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm incorrigible. I started another AU. Contrary to my other longer stuff, this one will consist of a series of shorter fic that may or may not want to be written in chronological order. Each one will (attempt to) be a functional oneshot, although some things may only make sense in context.  
> Avid readers of all my fic may recognize some of the (semi-)OCs since I'm an unrepentant recycler of everything. Those are besically the same people as in my other stuff because all my fic is based on the same headcanons with different points of divergence from the canon timeline.  
> Bonus cookies for all those who guessed the identity of the Surprise Spoiler Baby before I named him. xD


End file.
